Coming Back To You
by TheMagicWorks
Summary: ' "Where's Ron, Harry?" Hermione was screaming inside when Harry finally managed to meet her eyes. Her heart was breaking piece by piece. One silent tear slid down her cheek, and at that moment she knew. She knew, but she wished she didn't. She nodded, feeling everything shut down inside of her.'
1. Chapter 1

It was the third anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts and the end of the Second Wizarding War. Just because the war was long gone and the wizarding world was at ease, it didn't mean the fighting had stopped. And nobody fought as much as Hermione and Ron.

Lives were rebuilt after the war. Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley became engaged within a year. Hogwarts was repaired for the next generation of wizards and witches. Harry, Ron and Hermione all joined at the Ministry and were well-respected in their professions. Harry became Head of Auror Office and Ron worked with him as an unofficial partner but made frequent visits as co-owner of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Hermione had quickly become Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Despite the loss and devastation, the Burrow was made to feel like a home again. Every Weasley had a little place of their own formed in a u shape with the centre being the main house. A path connected all the buildings and went all the way up to the front gate of the field. Hermione and Ron's place was furthest from the building on the left-hand side.

It was a dark night. Cold air blew through their quaint little cottage. Even though all the windows were locked and charmed to keep warmth in, that night seemed particularly different. That night changed everything.

Earlier that day, Ron stopped by Hermione's office at the Ministry. Every day he brought her lunch over and on that day he was bringing some flowers too. He wanted to give her a gift on this day seeing as it happened to also be their three-year anniversary. That day, the Ministry was excessively busy. He pushed through crowds stopped to talk briefly to a few colleagues. He bought the Daily Prophet from a stand near the lifts. Papers flew everywhere, people ran about at twice the speed and announcements were constant.

Ron knocked on the door to her office, before pushing the door open instinctively. An unexpected shadow was cast over Hermione. He felt his fists clench when he recognised the boots this man wore, but his anger grew when he heard a thick Bulgarian accent.

"You never did vrite to me Hermy-own-ninny." Viktor Krum was stood over Hermione's desk, a little too close for Ron's comfort. He cleared his throat, stepping forward and saw Hermione's cheeks burning red.

"Ronald!" she exclaimed with a hint of embarrassment in her voice. Ron raised one eyebrow and jumped to a million conclusions in his head. "Viktor was just visiting the ministry to talk about the war and it's effects on the Quidditch world over the years. He thought he'd just pop his head through the door."

"Looks like he's popping his head a bit closer than that..." Ron said through gritted teeth.

"I vas just on my vay. Vunderful to see you Hermy-own-ninny, promise you shall visit soon." Krum turned purposely with a wide grin on his face and stomped past Ron. "Good to see you too Veasley."

The door slammed and Hermione sighed, tucking hairs behind her ears with her eyes closed.

"What the hell was that?! Sorry was I intruding on a private moment with the Bulgarian boyfriend?!" Ron said, raising his voice and pacing toward her.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's nothing." Hermione said standing up, tucking her chair under her desk and fiddling with stacks of paper. "We'll talk about this later Ron."

"No, no we won't. We'll talk now! What was he doing leaning over your desk like that?! If it's nothing why are you blushing?" Hermione ignored her boyfriend, her head down. "What happened Hermione?!" Ron yelled.

"It's our anniversary Ron, please don't shout." Hermione reached to stroke down his jaw, but he flinched away.

"Fine. We will talk about this later. See you at home. Happy bloody anniversary!" Ron dumped the flowers and her lunch on the desk, knocking a few sheets of paper on the floor.

Hermione sunk back into her chair and took deep breaths, pushing gently into her temples. She stared at the lilies on her desk that had a little card signed _'To my one and only. Love, Ron.'_ There had been many fights about Krum and they were always blown out of proportion. But this time, she was hiding something. Krum had kissed her. She pushed him off, but Krum had kissed her and telling Ron would not be easy.

When Ron got home from his late shift, she had made an anniversary dinner. The table was set romantically with candles, but Ron refused to eat anything until they had talked about Krum.

"This is pathetic, you're pathetic!" she yelled.

"Just tell me what happened again..." He said through gritted teeth.

"He kissed me. Krum kissed me."

"UGH! He thinks he can just go around doing 'vhatever' he wants! King Krum. I swear to god if I ever see him again, I'll kick him all the way to Bulgaria and-"

"I pushed him off, I stopped him!" She reached out for Ron's arm, but he swatted her away.

"But he kissed you! You must have done something to make him kiss you! Did you want him to kiss you?"

"Are you really asking me that question?!"

"Just answer me."

"NO! Of course I didn't!" Ron stared blankly as she spoke. "I want you, just you. I don't want to fight about this. It was nothing. It meant nothing." Hermione sighed sharply.

"Bloody hell!" Ron scratched his head. "I don't want to fight either! But, look at this from my point of view, for once." he moaned.

"What?!"

"You never think about how it is for me. The guy looks at you like you're his prey!"

"There is nothing between Viktor Krum and I!"

"Oh come on! He tried to kiss you! Do you know how that feels?"

"Are you jealous? It's been years! Can't we move on yet?!"

"Now who's being pathetic! Are you talking aout the ball again?" he snorted.

"The Yule Ball. If you'd asked me, it would be all fine. Viktor would not have been such a problem..."

"It always comes back to this! I'm going to bed. It's done, we'll talk about it in the morning. Happy three bloody years!" Ron made his way to the stairs.

"Please." she said. And that was all. She didn't want to fight but leaving it this way somehow hurt more. There was a pause as she watched his shoulders sag. He turned to look at her and their eyes met. Ron took one large step and kissed Hermione gently, bending down to pull her chin up so to meet his lips with hers. It was warm and wet but over within seconds. She stood rigid as he continued pounding up the stairs in the way he always did. He was already up the stairs by the time she'd moved, tears spilling over her eyes. She began to climb, her crying making her eyesight blurry. She reached the landing, but he had already locked their bedroom door. She didn't try the handle again. She sat on the landing for about 10 minutes, staring at the door, waiting for something.

Eventually, she paced back downstairs and blew out the candles on the table. She had a drink to calm her down and crashed on the sofa. When Ron got up for work, it was still dark. He must have had 3 hours sleep at best and when he saw Hermione on the sofa he felt awful. He was going to be late if he woke her now and she would be grouchy. He decided he would make it up to her when he was home, afterall, seeing her this way made him feel incredibly guilty about everything. He would never tell her but he was proud that three years after their first kiss, he still had the opportunity to love such a strong and beautiful woman. He kissed her forehead and pulled a blanket over her tightly. He walked towards the door but stopped. Ron left a message for her on the coffee table. _I'm sorry, I love you x_ was writen on parchment in gold ink _._ As the warmth of loving Hermione spread through him, he pulled his long trench coat on and walked into the sunrise.


	2. Chapter 2

She awoke suddenly. Her life was thrusted toward her again at high speed and she thought of one thing. Ron.

Hermione stood up and dragging a blanket that smelled distinctively like her boyfriend around her, ran to his room. He was gone. Bed sheets were sprawled, a variety of things cluttered the floor. Their bedroom was a mess. She had suffered through nightmares so her brain was jittery. Him leaving her, him being tortured, her being tortured. The darkest dreams came when she was sleeping alone. She closed her eyes and imagined that he was here. All she wanted now was to apologise and feel his arms pull her in. Seeing an empty, messy room was too much. With a small shaky breath, she crept back downstairs, her heart heavy.

Even if he did come home to her, he'd be at work till late again. Ron had muttered something about tracking someone down and working with Harry for something important. Something important usually meant something dangerous and something dangerous always meant there were consequences. The last time the boys had worked together, they had successfully captured 5 death eaters who were hiding out near the Forest of Dean. Even then, with big reward came bigger injury. Harry had half dragged Ron into the cottage at 3 am and Ron was screaming. Screaming so loudly it pierced Hermione's ears. He had been splinched, again. This time it was his leg and there was so much blood, blood that stained the wood on the dining room table and meant they needed a new one. Ron was still in recovery for his injuries but Ron being Ron was acting like it was all good. Hermione shuddered at the thought of what she would be dealing with this time and her eyes darted toward the bathroom. Rifling through the medicine cabinet, Hermione checked that all her supplies were full and that there would be nothing she needed in the worst case scenario. _Then again_ , Hermione thought rather bleakly, _worst case scenario there won't be a Ron to fix_ , but she shook the thought from her mind. She had spent so many nights waiting for that news. It crossed her mind about 15 times a day on average. How would she cope? What would she say? How would it happen? She must have imagined every possible death for Ron in her dreams. In fact, the war ending had made her more paranoid; it was like she was waiting for something. Her rattling fingers reached for the bottle off Calming Draught she kept tucked on the top shelf. Ron didn't like her taking it too often, but he knew she would take it when he was out.

Hermione walked back out of the bathroom and around the dining table, taking in the untouched plates of food and full wine glasses. It was supposed to have been so perfect. He would have come home and they would have instantly forgiven each other and shared a candlelit dinner. Ron would have told Hermione everything about their mission to calm her nerves. Hermione would have updated him on house elf laws and he would have pretended to listen carefully. They would have reminisced about the past three years. They would laugh about school, plan for the future. They would have made love just as passionately as the first time and fallen asleep to the taste of firewhisky. She wanted that now, she'd give anything for that now.

There was a knock at the door that made Hermione leap out of her skin.

"It's me!" a cheery voice said.

"Come in." Hermione responded plainly.

Ginny bounced into the room with her hair swaying, heading straight for the sofa. "Were you two fighting again last night? I heard yelling." Ginny sunk into the cushions and closed her eyes. Hermione leant on the corner of the table with arms folded.

"Why were you up?"

"That doesn't answer my question..." Ginny waited for her reply but opened her eyes and looked directly at Hermione. "Then again, seeing your face, I can work it out for myself. Jesus, are you okay?"

"Couldn't sleep." Hermione muttered. Her face was pale and slightly sweaty.

"How bad was this fight? What's happened?" she said slowly upon seeing the grim look upon Hermione's face.

"Ron..." Before she could finish saying his name Hermione was in floods of tears. She clutched tighter at the blanket as Ginny rushed towards her. Ginny took her best friend into her arms.

"Shhh, I saw him leave this morning. He's fine. He's going out to get someone important but it's fine. Some big case or what-not."

"Who're they fighting?" she grumbled, letting Ginny guide her to sit in a chair at the table.

"No idea. Wouldn't say." she shrugged.

"Where's Harry?!" Hermione nearly shouted.

"Harry's gone too. Shh.."

Hermione shook for a while, digging her fingers into her arms to make herself feel alert. Ginny began clearing the table with her wand but didn't ask any questions. She didn't need to. She sighed, moving pasta into the bin. She set the dishes to scrub and the cushions to plump themselves.

"Gin, Gin.. I'm scared."

"Of what?" She opened the curtains and Hermione flinched.

"The end, this is it, never coming back."

"Stop being silly. You two always fight. He always comes crawling back like the arrogant sod he is." she muttered.

"But this was.." Hermione choked on a sob. "...this was bigger. I feel something in my bones. Something bad. You know, like the time the boys were in danger in the Forest and I felt it. I knew Ron was splinched. I feel that, but it's stronger. Worse."

"Hermione." Ginny took her face into her hands. "Stop it. Please."

"Ginny." Hermione didn't know what else to say. She wanted him back now. She needed to see him and to say sorry.

"You're scaring me too now!" Ginny puffed. "They're fine. They're always fine." There was a pause as the two girls fought for words to say. "They're always fine." she repeated, more to reassure herself this time. "Let's have some tea shall we?" She set the kettle to boil and picked up some books and rearranged them on the coffee table. Her eyes caught something gold. "Did you see this?" Ginny asked lifting the note Ron had left. Hermione lifted her head.

"No? Give it to me!" she yelled with arm outstretched.

"Alright! Calm down!"

Hermione read, tracing his words with her finger tip. " _'I'm sorry, I love you_?' What does that mean?!"

"Um? Maybe, he's sorry and he loves you?" Ginny retorted sarcastically.

Hermione dropped the ragged blanket that she was clutching for comfort. She let out a cry and looked around. "What if it means he's leaving me and never coming back? What if it means he's sorry but he just can't take it anymore?"

"Shut up! Shut up! Do you hear yourself right now? My brother loves you and that's the only thing he's ever been sure of in his whole life. He's not leaving you. Not now, not ever."

Ginny sat down at the table and poured Hermione her drink. She delicately placed it in front of her making sure she saw. But, Hermione was far away, trying to ignore the sound of Ron's screaming in her head.

"Hermione. Tea."


	3. Chapter 3

Every day, Molly insisted on cooking for everyone, regardless of whether they'd show up or not. It gave her something to do, kept her focused. Those up for breakfast would have it at around 8 but brunch was served at around half 10 so the boys could join when they came home. Most of the Weasleys were home for the time being so meals were important to Molly. Breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner. No matter when someone was home, there would always be something to eat. The table was full as usual, with food as well as people. This morning, Ginny had had to force Hermione to take a bath and eat with the family. When Hermione grieved, she did it quietly, not in the midst of a crowd.

Arthur was at the head of the table as always, reading his paper. Charlie was on his left. Audrey was next, followed by Percy, Bill and Audrey. Molly's seat was at the other end of the table, but she barely sat down. George sat next to Angelina and the empty chair they always kept for Fred. Harry was next, then Ginny who sat next to Hermione. Hermione looked down at the empty chair beside her. The chair where Ron sat. Her heart ached a little but Ginny gave her a reassuring smile and squeezed her hand.

Hermione stabbed at her egg and started rolling her beans back and forth on her plate. She poked at her bacon with a fork. No appetite. She glanced up at the Weasley clock, to which every extended family member had been added to. Every name pointed to home except Harry and Ron's which instead informed Hermione that they were at work. She sighed a little relief at the fact mortal peril was not an option on the clock anymore but then realised she would want to know if the boys were in mortal peril. She wouldn't be so stressed if Ron and herself had not have fought the night before. She remembered it all vividly and she hated it.

It wasn't the first time though that they were at work for longer than intended, Hermione remembered. But Molly was fussing that Ron had said it would be a quick job. "They said they'd be home for brunch. Keep contacting the Ministry Arthur." She had repeated this at least five times already and Hermione tried to block her out. She loved Molly dearly but sometimes, she wanted her to just stop talking.

"Probably just another errand," George reminded his unstable Mother.

"Yeah," Arthur reassured her, "they will be fine, love." Molly nodded, as she stood at the sink scrubbing a plate. When Molly panicked, she did everything she'd usually do with magic and today it was cleaning.

Percy sat, eating from his bowl of cornflakes. "I heard," he said with a mouthful, "that they're after Dolohov and Rowle."

"What?!" Molly and Ginny both spat. Molly dropped the plate she was murdering with a sponge and it smashed. Angelina moved quickly to help clean up the mess and moved Molly to a chair to calm her down. The whole family had tensed, knowing how dangerous these people were.

"Jesus." George muttered under his breath.

Antonin Dolohov. Hermione could see his greasy face snarling at her now. His long, pale, twisted face and dark ragged hair. He'd killed the Prewett's, Molly's brothers. He killed Remus Lupin and nearly killed Hermione too. So many others suffered because of this man.

Thorfinn Rowle. He was was an enormous, towering and muscled Death Eater with blond hair. Just as powerful, terrifying, cunning and sly. He was responsible for many unnecessary deaths and tortures. He was reckless and had even killed another death eater.

"Talk..." Arthur said leaning closer to Percy and putting down his paper.

Percy swallowed hard, his eyes darting as every member of his family blinked at him. "Oh dear. Nobody told you? They broke out of Azkaban two months ago." Percy said slowly trying to retrace his steps. The whole family fell cold and shivered.

"Why weren't we informed? We work in the Ministry for pity's sake!" Arthur said with a catch in his voice.

"It's not public knowledge yet. It shouldn't be. Harry didn't want anyone to know. They don't want to worry you I guess." Percy choked out.

"Didn't want to worry us?! If you know anything Percy Weasley, you tell us right now!" Molly groaned. Percy cleared his throat before he began again.

"There's been talk of a plan to get all the death eaters out. They've done it once, they can do it again. Security systems over there aren't what they used to be, it's anarchy. The people who work there are terrified. The death eaters have decided they don't need Volde-"

"Nope. I've heard enough for today." Ginny said softly.

"Oh that's great..." said Audrey throwing her hands in the air. "For all we know they could be-"

"Stop." said Ginny. "Don't say it." Ginny rested her head on Hermione's shoulder. Knowing both of their boyfriends and best friends could be anywhere was torture. Doing anything. Or not doing anything at all. Lying there. Hermione felt her eyes watering and focused on the family at the table instead of the horrors in her mind.

"They've been later than this before." George added.

"They'll be okay." Angelina said.

"They know what they're doing." Percy added.

"We do not need to worry because-" Fleur muttered.

"Well I am bloody worried!" Ginny spat interrupting her sister-in-law. There was silence for a while. "I'm sorry Fleur, can we just change the subject for a while?" Fleur nodded and apologised silently. She understood. Fleur was holding the gorgeous Victoire very close to her, a gorgeously blond and blue eyed baby bouncing on her knee as she started wiggling her toes. You could tell they were Mother and Daughter.

Hermione hadn't said a thing all morning so when she spoke her voice was croaky and made everyone stare.

"Yeahhh. I, I'm sure they're fine. They always are." And although she didn't believe herself, she tried.

When the group moved into the lounge, the atmosphere was slightly calmer. Hermione sat down with a tea with her knees tucked in and her back against the sofa as Ginny braided her damp-from-the-shower hair. Amongst all the commotion, she took everything in. Fleur and Bill had only been up for a while but spoke about trying for another baby and how they would be going back to Shell Cottage soon. Their visits were frequent and always welcome but Shell Cottage was their home. In the hope they would stay for longer intervals, Molly had insisted they have their own cottage here anyway. Angelina and George had just got engaged. Heavily pregnant Audrey spoke about her baby names. Hermione heard it all but she could not bring herself to join in. She thought and thought; none of it was pleasant.


	4. Chapter 4

Tick, tock. Ron and Harry's faces on the famous Weasley clock were currently dancing between every place. Arthur insisted it was a fault in the system but everyone thought overwise. Nethertheless, his muggle tool box was out and he'd spent the last half hour poking things with the wrong end of a screwdriver.

Fleur slurped at her fifth cup of tea as Bill sat next to her, watching her pristine face closely.

"Bill," she murmured. "Are you worried?"

"No, Ron's always okay.. and Harry, you know that." The slight shake in his voice made it clear he was worried.

"I guess." Fleur said, before the hot beverage touched her lips again. She felt Bills warm lips on her forehead and his hand on her waist. At first it had mostly been the women in the house who were stressing out but now it was everyone. It had gone 3 pm which meant the pair had been out of the house for over 12 hours. For someone who was supposed to be in recovery and someone who was the Head of his department, that was a long shift.

"We're okay." Bill whispered to her, holding their daughter close.

Suddenly, the clock's hands moved. Arthur jumped back and his screwdriver went flying. Fleur's head shot up, her hands waving in every direction. "Back! Cooo'eee evryone, they'z back!" She called into the lounge from the kitchen as Bill let go of her waist.

Everyone flew out of their seats, huddling into the kitchen. Ginny and Molly stood hand in hand standing close to the door. Angelina collected the cold tea's and stacked the mugs into the sink using her wand. George sat on the worktop with half of his brothers and Arthur opened the door as his children and family stood around.

Hermione glanced out across the Weasley garden. It was bright, despite being the afternoon and she squinted slightly. Hermione was near the back, her hands shaking. Sun streamed through big oak trees. Wellington boots formed a pile outside the back door. Although there was no strong breeze, the leaves swayed lazily, giving a rippling effect. The chickens had been shut away in the new hut Arthur had built following muggle instruction guides. Flourishing flowers, bees buzzing and lots of gnomes. Molly didn't mind them now as Arthur had bargained for them to do the gardening. Crookshanks was fond of chasing gnomes around the garden of The Burrow, but at the moment he was curled in the corner of the room against a wall. She smiled.

"I though they were both home..." Ginny said slowly... Hermione looked back from her cat to the garden. Then she looked at the clock. Only Harry was home. Ron was stuck at lost.

Oh no. Hermione thought she was going to throw up and she covered her mouth and took a deep breath. Maybe it's not what it looks like...

"It's Harry dear.." Audrey stated.

"It's Harry." Hermione muttered. Ginny's shoulders fell with her exhale.

The figure that was supposed to be Harry was coming nearer. He was easier to make out now, clearer features. Clearer emotions. Clearer pain. And then it hit everyone that something was wrong. Really wrong. Molly started crying silently but no one moved to comfort her. Upon Harry's forehead, covered by his untamed black hair, was a scar shaped like a lightning bolt. And this was normal. But never, since war, had it been this, alive. He looked half dead as he trudged across the lawn toward the house and the people he called home. He did not smile, his face was solid and cold. He was silent. Tears ran down his face. His jaw was locked. His eyes burned red. He seemed to be wincing each time he stepped.

At first when it had happened, he had felt like nothing was real anymore. He tried to convince himself that it hadn't happened; but after a while reality hit him hard. He felt such an anger. He had cried. He'd screamed for hours. He had wanted someone to curse him. Make him feel something else. In that moment, he wanted to be the boy who'd died. He felt heavy, hot and like he could vomit at any second. Blood stained his left cheek and palms, his clothes were ripped and he carried only a wand in his hand. It was useless now, it had done nothing when it was needed.

Ginny stood there. She wanted to run to him but when she made a dash for it George had stopped her, held her back by her wrist. She just couldn't force herself to move now, so scared, so transfixed. Time was a blur. Harry felt as if he'd been walking toward the house for hours. Time was a mess, time was wrong. The last time he'd walked like this, he was giving himself to Voldemort. This was worse.

"He looks dead," Bill whispered.

Harry was reaching the door and he looked up. He looked at the family. He looked at his family. How would he tell them? How could he? He looked at his fiance. He wanted to bury his head into Ginny's silk-like hair. As he reached the door George let go of Ginny who walked to him. She hugged him tightly, tears running down her chin. He stood limp. He was limp. Yes, he loved Ginny. But he couldn't love her in this second. He loved nothing. Someone should be laughing with him on his way back home, someone should be standing next to him.

Hermione wanted to hold him too, to speak alone to her best friend. That would not happen. She would never get that chance. Harry looked down slowly waiting for questions he didn't know how to answer. Arthur choked on the breath he'd been holding. Molly began sobbing uncontrollably. Audrey turned her face into Percy's chest. Fleur clutched Victoire tighter.

Hermione spoke first, asking the question she didn't want to. It was slow and painful. It caught in her throat on the way out and came out like a cry. "Where's Ron, Harry?" Hermione was screaming inside when Harry finally managed to met her eyes. Her heart was breaking piece by piece.

She needed to know the truth. Harry stared, like he'd done so many times at Hermione, with soft eyes and a heavy heart. He willed her to understand. One silent tear slid down her cheek, and at that moment she knew. She knew, but she wished she didn't. She nodded, feeling everything shut down inside of her.

Harry breathed out slowly and blinking through his blurry vision, he croaked "Ron's dead Hermione."


	5. Chapter 5

It was a bitter early morning and the lifeless sun was barely noticeable. Gripping at her arms, she tried to warm by rubbing but, this was useless.

A slight light peered inquisitively through the closed blinds of the house. She was not ready to open to the world yet. She felt as if she never would be. The house she was currently in had seen better days. Smashed glasses and papers everywhere reflected the mess in Hermione's head. She was uncontrollable and reckless now, doing things before thinking. But at the same time she was quiet, passionless and empty. Not Hermione.

Her bed currently consisted of a blanket and pillow in the corner of the room. She hadn't made the journey to get into it in a few days. She was always crying, it was like drowning. Her heart pined for someone who would never come back. As tears fogged up her eyes once more, she almost choked on the thought of Ron's hair.

When Harry broke the news to Hermione she didn't react. She had walked away, gone away in the night and had spoken to no one. When she finally started crying, she felt the last bit of hope drain from her as if she'd never be happy again.

She'd tried talking to him but she never really found words to say.

"I'm trying darling, I really am. But it's hard without you."

Having stopped caring about herself since she'd run away, her mascara had left her eyes looking dull and gave her black patches. She let out another reserved breath. It was shaky, heavy and long. Her eyes flowed heavily like the broken taps in their broken home that Ron had failed to fix month after month. Her lips curled into a frown. Now and then they'd quiver or mutter something in desperation. Staring out into the dark, surrounded by pictures and memories of the two of them, she tortured herself daily. Between the nightmares and the sickness, Hermione was decaying. She wore jeans, torn from the amount of times she'd just thrown them on again. Her big jumper he used to wear was always on.

She had thought, many times about using skilled memory charms to forget. Like a drug. Or worse. To forget everything. Or to make everything else forget her. The fact that she'd never said goodbye pained her so deeply but to go back would surely make things worse. For Molly. For Harry, Ginny and everyone. Ashamed by the fact she was unable to hold herself up and be the strong young woman everyone needed, she left. They didn't need any more tears at home. _Home._ She thought of home everyday.

 _Too young_ the papers said. _Wise_ they had called him, _strong, brave, inspirational._ And then they stopped talking about him and that hurt more than the articles had. Rita Skeeter would write intrusive and unrealistic updates on the Wizarding World without Ron and Hermione would burn these after reading them.

Hermione was weak. She was hungry. She was lonely. Nothing stayed in her long enough before she was bringing it back up again. She drank tea when she could. Mug after mug. Often cold and bland. The way he made it for her every morning haunted her. Death was something she'd always feared and she'd come close to it, plenty of times. They'd faced that together. They found love in the possibility of death. She wished it could have been her, not him. She'd take the torture from Bellatrix, the crucio curse, a million hexes just to bring him back. Ron would live without her. He would find a way to keep fighting. He had a life apart from her, hers was built around him. She was tired of fighting now, her eyes were red and stung when she blinked. She felt cramped. Sleeping only resulted in nightmares she never recovered from. She saw bad things she'd already experienced in the flesh. She imagined many times about punishing whoever took him away from her. She'd pictured his death in every way possible too, taunting herself with the images of Ron screaming, Ron bleeding, Ron in his last breaths.

Everyone knew she needed time and had stopped searching for her. It was now clear she didn't want to be found. Her protection charms were good if a little sloppy so up until now she was quite well hidden. Her sudden drop out of work had caused quite the stir but was covered up with stories of controversy in the Ministry. Harry made less appearances but put on a brave face for the Ministry, hiding the fact that things were well and truly falling apart. She remembered that there was an article about the _corpse_ in the papers too, but she couldn't look. She wanted to remember him in the way she'd seen him last, full of desire. She closed her eyes to see him as she had so many times in the morning light, after they'd made love. Beads of sweat on his body and his muscles taught. Everyday she could feel less. She stopped remembering his exact taste besides spearmint and she couldn't feel his warmth. In her sleep his arms used to keep her anchored. Even just a heavy breath in her ear was enough to help her make it through the night. Something to let her know that they were both alive, breathing, loving.

As the face she loved painfully came into her head, she tried reaching out, for something no longer there. His eyes, blue like the crash of the shore. A freckled complexion like a map of stars. Ears, that turned red like the love they shared. A long nose and body. A smile that left scars in her memory and heart. Hermione waited for something to come, something to stop the screaming.


	6. Chapter 6

And without a doubt, Harry knew this was the place. Something seemed to pull him here, having finally tracked Hermione to this town. After giving her time, he began quietly searching for her. Knowing she was out there somewhere, mourning, was enough to keep Harry going. Information passed about her whereabouts from person to person, contact from the Ministry, even the muggle world's security footage. Protection spells, tracing enchantments. The two were counter acting each other the whole way.

He pushed the door open slowly, trying to ready himself for anything.

"Hermione?" he called closing the door behind him. He had to squint through the dark to make out vague shapes. He stepped as quietly as he could, his big boots tapping on the broken floorboards. He could make out a slightly torn photograph and bringing it to his face he carefully examined it. It had been taken at Bill and Fleur's wedding before they'd had to leave. All of them happy, all of them so far away. Hermione on the left laughing towards the camera in red, Ron staring longingly at her, his hand on her back. Harry himself was grinning too, beyond the camera towards Ginny then back at his friends.

This was a stab to the heart. He'd do anything for her to have him and for him to have her. What would happen in a few years, when she was perhaps supposed to be married? Would she be forever kept in a corner with stitched on smile? With a sharp glint of something in his eye he put the photograph into his pocket and took a deep breath.

"Hermione?" he repeated. He glanced around the house quickly, his eyes darting madly.

Checking every room, he breathed heavily. He turned to his left and stepped into what he assumed was the living room from the upturned sofas and broken television set. It took a while for his eyes to adjust to this room of dark, still, quietness.

Although the room was mostly empty, wilting lilies stood in a vase on a table. More pictures decorated the floors. His eyes glanced across to a shaking shape in the corner.

Harry almost cried when he saw the hunched figure by the window. The hair, the fragile body. No. How was she living like this? She had her back to a wall, her knees up under her chin and her arms crossed, her head burrowed into them. Her thick, matted hair was in every direction. It made her looked feral. A sharp, animalistic sob called out from her.

Harry stepped forward as lightly as possible so not to startle her. One of the floorboards in the dully lit room creaked. She looked up quickly, and pointed her wand towards him as if protecting herself from attack.

"Hey, hey! It's me... calm…" Harry said slowly backing away, his hands out stretched.

"Who are you? Get out! Get away!" she yelled, now rising from her position ever so slightly. Her mind was sharp and quick. She grabbed her wand tighter and swished it slightly to show that she was not afraid. "Get away from me!"

"Hey! Hey! Stop!"

"YOU DON'T KNOW ME!" She looked almost fierce and violent, a way Harry had never seen her. If it were not for the fact that this were Hermione, Harry would've drawn his wand too. She gritted her teeth and Harry called out softly, gently.

"Hey, it's me Hermione-"

"You know my name?" she wiped her eyes with her torn jumper sleeves and blinked repeatedly. Now able to see, she sighed and dropped her wand instantly. It was like something clicked into place that just hadn't before. She stood fully and Harry was able to take in the ghost that was Hermione. Harry smiled, blinking through tears. She started to move slowly then faster. The woman turned child threw her arms around him and Harry's fingers rose to her hair. Despite smelling of dust, damp and being terribly cold, she was still Hermione.

"Oi, what's happened to you? You haven't been eating properly. Hermione, you look awfully sick."

"I'm fine." she mumbled holding onto her best friend tighter, closing her eyes and inhaling, fingers clasping at the collar of his shirt.

"But you're not, are you?" His question was responded to with a tight squeeze and a sob.

"I don't know anymore. I feel like a different person. I'm not sure if this is one of the good days or the bad."

"That's okay. I'm here now and I'm not leaving you." Harry looked her straight into her eyes for the first time since he'd had to tell her that the love of her life was dead. Holding her hand in reassurance as she looked up on him, he felt her exhale. Her hands had a slight shake, still overcome by Harry's appearance. "We made it through hell before, we'll do it again." He said simply.

"Yes. Not without him but yes." And she had nothing more to say on that matter.

"It's okay, you're just going through loss. We all are. You don't have to do this alone." He lightly pulled away and took her hand in his rubbing at her thumb. "It'll be good for you to see everyone, I know Ginny needs you. Let's get you home yeah?"

"What?" Hermione dropped his hand and stepped back.

"Home, the Burrow. Molly is worried, they all are. You can have a bath and a good sleep in your cottage and…"

"No." she said softly.

"Hermione, come on." he laughed, reaching out to touch her.

"NO." she flinched in anger. "YOU LISTEN TO ME HARRY JAMES POTTER. YOU DON'T GET TO BE THE HERO THIS TIME. THE PART WHERE YOU SAVE YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST BARGE IN HERE, WHERE I'M QUITE OKAY BY MYSELF AND TAKE ME HOME AND IT'S ALL GONNA BE FINE JUST LIKE THAT? NO."

Harry tried to calm her down. "No, Hermione, I..."

"NOTHINGS EVER GOING TO BE FINE, DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT? I'LL COME HOME AND EVERYONE WILL MAKE A FUSS. THEY'LL BE WATCHING ME ALL THE TIME AND I WON'T BE ABLE TO BREATHE AND I'LL HAVE TO SLEEP IN OUR BED BY MYSELF AND…" She jabbed a finger at him before starting again. "HE LEFT ME ONCE WHEN WE WERE IN THE FOREST AND THAT NEARLY DESTROYED ME. I'M NOT HERMIONE ANYMORE. NOT WITHOUT HIM! I'M NOT GOING BACK, NOT NOW, NOT EVER, I CAN'T. WITHOUT HIM, WITHOUT HIM IT ALL MEANS NOTHING. HE'S GONE. HE'S DEAD. OKAY? WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE, SO MANY OF US ALREADY HAVE. HE DIED TOO YOUNG AND I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW OR WHY OR WHO. IT'S NOT GOING TO BE OKAY. I NEED HIM. BLOODY HELL I JUST NEED HIM-" She covered her mouth and fell to her knees with a sob.

Harry squatted to her height and wiped her tear, "He would be so proud of you. You know that?" She shook her head in disagreement and Harry sat beside her as she cried. "He would have struggled to tell you but he would have been so proud. And he's still with you. Just then, you said bloody hell Hermione."

There was a minute or so of quiet whilst Hermione struggled to breathe, coughing on Harry's chest. When she finally managed to talk again she laughed. And she smiled and it felt like a sunrise. "Yeah. Yeah, I did. Talk to me about home. How is everyone?"

"We've seen better days but we're laughing again now."

"Molly? How's Molly?"

"The other day she joked that it's easier for her because she's already lost Fred. It's not true. She hurts a lot. She'll cry at breakfast. We've seen her pacing in the garden in the early hours."

"Oh god. She deserves some good. You and Ginny?"

"She shouts a lot. It gets harder everyday." Harry said gently.

"It's not you, trust me. I shouted a lot at Ronald, probably a lot more than I should've too."

"I think he'd agree with me that he deserved a majority of it."

"Ha! I'd take it all back and more, everything we went through just to…"

"I know you would, I know."

"I don't blame you either Harry, I want you to know that, I don't. I know you would have fought for him till there was no fight left." Harry nodded and stood, pacing around the room slowly, her beady eyes watching him. His boots made the wooden floor shake.

"Who lives here?" he asked intrigued.

"Some muggle family, gone to America on holidays, they're due back tomorrow."

"Perfect timing to come home then yeah?" There was a slight silence but Hermione nodded. "You've stayed here the whole time?"

"No not always, just last week I was in some run down apartment in Devon that smelled like damp and was covered in cat fur. There was a shabby house on the outskirts of London last month and a few others between then."

"It's dark in here, have you got the…"

Hermione smiled and took the deluminator from her bag. She pressed it to her lips in memory of Ron and flicked it so that the lights came back to life. The whole place looked as if it would crumble at any moment. Hermione stood again, blinking through the sudden change in lighting. She felt queasy. How had she lived here like this?

She realised Harry was talking when she finally turned to look at him.

"This is how you've been living Hermione. It's been almost 3 months since.."

"3 months today actually and you might as well say it.. since he died."

"Yes." Silence, as she wiped her face once more, pulling her sleeves down longer and the jumper over her faded jeans.

"Shall we put this place in order again then?" he said, feeling like his old Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.

He remembered that day greatly, the day he first met Horace Slughorn. A man who both intrigued and disturbed him. Yet, if he were here, he'd be able to give Hermione many things. Things to cure her nerves, a full memory restore, sleep regaining crystals; things Harry would try do when he got her home. He'd do anything in his power to help her, for Ron. Casting his mind back to the moment with joy, just as he had been shown all those years ago, Harry performed the spell. Pieces of the room zoomed past them, fixing, mending, repairing the damage poor Hermione had caused them. Parts of glass flying to a lamp shade, tufts of fabric sewing back into place. Having never seen this spell before, Hermione stared in awe at the happenings around her.

"What a wonderful spell."

"By one of the greatest wizards himself."

"Dumbledore." she smirked. In that look, the pair shared a thousand memories. Memories full of Ron and their friends, their family, school and magic. Hermione's eyes filled again.

"Thank you." she blubbed slightly, feeling small in comparison with his massive figure approaching.

"For what?"

"For coming for me. I had no idea what was happening in my head…" There was a long sigh and a quick sniff before she moved her eyes back to his. "I miss him."

"I know, _I_ miss him. He is my best friend." Harry thought about correcting his _is_ to a _was_ but changed his mind.

"I miss him so much it hurts to breathe." She bit her lip deeply holding back another cry.

"This isn't the first time you've cried over Ron though is it?" He took her chin between his hands and shook it. "Hey? And we got over that didn't we? After all the pain you were happy."

"This is different. I can't... I can't see him, feel him, smell him. I blame myself, the fight we had the night before. The last things we said. This is pain. The war was like a splinter in comparison. This is like a war wound." And they both nodded, nothing else to say, as he tried clearing some of her own belongings into her bag.

There wasn't much here. A toothbrush, a few jumpers, clothes, hairbrush, a few sherbet lemons, an apple, some of Fred and George's products, Crookshanks's collar, an empty bottle, an empty perfume bottle, her wand, a yule ball ticket, Hogwarts: A History, The Tales of Beedle The Bard, and thousands of photographs.

"Undetectable extension charm on this bag again?" he said filling the beaded bag she had taken with her on their adventures for horcruxes. That seemed like a lifetime ago when they were entirely different people, people full of both hope and hurt.

"Yep." Silence again, waiting.

"Do you ever forget that he's gone? I looked for him at the table this morning, it broke Molly's heart when she realised."

"I could feel him when I woke up this morning and then he was gone again. It's like loving a ghost."

It was time. Harry caught his breath, looked at her directly and then spoke, trying to make it as simple as possible. "Hermione, I came here for two reasons. Two very important reasons. One, to find you. And two," Hermione sat on the sofa when she noticed the tone in Harry's voice and the slight catch in his throat. He began again, but his brows pulled tight together. "Ron might not be completely lost. There might be a way of bringing him back Hermione."

'What?!" she whispered slowly bringing her head up. He watched her face contort through one million emotions at once. He watched it spread through her body like a ball of light. He watched her properly breathe for the first time. Hermione had never felt more alive.

"Don't freak out."

"Why didn't you start with this you idiot?!" Hermione exclaimed. When she could think, she whispered out her words. "We have to do it. Harry, we need to. Please."

"It's not as simple as it sounds. It's not going to be easy, it's really not."

"How?" she asked, floating between joy, panic, fear and shock. It was as if she had always had a little hope left and now it was blazing inside of her.

"When Ron disappeared there was talks of using time travel. We thought all the time turners were destroyed during the war but…"

"McGonagall! Oh Harry!" Hermione shrieked bringing her hand to her mouth. "After all this time. Oh Harry…"

"The Ministry acquired the last time turner a few days ago. Your time turner. It was in her desk. It has been since our third year."

Hermione sunk in the sofa, her head in her hands, struggling with herself.

"Hermione, they want you to go back and change history. Change everything."


End file.
